The Sum of all Truth
by LizAna
Summary: Directly follows on from "Hanging from a Trip Wire." Bass is recovering from his injuries, but when the arrival of a bounty hunter puts Charlie in danger, he'll stop at nothing to keep her safe. Their situation gets worse when Bass learns who is behind Charlie's status as a wanted criminal. As enemies close in, things between Bass and Charlie only get more complicated.
1. Chapter 1

This story directly follows on from my first Revolution fanfic, Hanging from a Trip Wire.

**Previously on Revolution…**

_While scouting along the Texas/Plains Nation boarder, Bass falls through a roof. He's trapped and his arm is badly injured, but Charlie refuses to leave him, first hiding them from a Patriot patrol searching for them, and then killing a lone scout. Miles and Rachel find them, but getting Bass out of the mess isn't easy. He's lost a lot of blood, and time is running out for him. Rachel comes up with a solution, but even once Bass is free, things don't improve. They run across another Patriot patrol on the way out of town, and Bass uses the last of his failing energy to save Charlie from being stabbed in the back. After that, they hole up in a farmhouse, where Rachel realizes Bass might have already lost too much blood. Miles suggests a transfusion, but the conversation ends with the revelation that Miles is Charlie's biological father…_

* * *

Charlie clenched her fists, her mom's announcement going on replay over and over in her head… _Ben wasn't your biological father, Miles is_.

The next breath she took came too short, catching in the back of her throat. Her whole body tightened up with the need to get out. She couldn't be in the same room as her mother right now, who never seemed to give her anything but lies and half truths.

She went to take a step, but Bass caught her hand, halting her in her tracks.

"Charlie, it's okay. Don't freak out, all right?" His voice was still unsteady from the massive blood loss, but there was a note of strength underlining his words that she grabbed onto like a lifeline.

Bass tugged her hand, until she dropped down next to the couch.

"It's okay," he repeated more quietly.

Actually, it was pretty damn far from okay, but her throat was tight, and her tongue felt too thick to form any words. Instead she took an uneven breath and dropped her forehead to rest against Bass' shoulder. His hand came up to cup the back of her head, and she dug her fingers into his biceps, swallowing down the urge to cry.

This was nuts. Like, totally insane. And the world must have really gone crazy if Sebastian Monroe was the one she turned to for comfort.

"Jesus Rachel, Charlie is my kid?" Miles sounded about as blown away as she felt. "And you didn't think that might be something you needed to tell me?"

"When was I supposed to tell you, Miles?" Rachel shot back.

"Well, not while Ben was alive, obviously. I get that. But he died, Rachel. And we've practically been living in each other's pockets for the past six months. At any point during all that time, you never once thought to say _hey Miles, FYI, Charlie is your daughter_."

"I've thought about it every single day since she was born," Rachel returned quietly. "But being sarcastic doesn't help anything right now."

Miles took a ragged breath. "I'm sorry. I'm just— It's a lot to get my head around in under two minutes. This morning I was an uncle, but now I've got to man up and be a father? Sorry if that makes my temper just a little short. "

"Just stop." Aggravation surged up within Charlie, but at least resentment was easier to deal with than tears. She raised her head to look at where her mom and Miles were facing off. "Just stop, okay? I can't hear this right now."

She looked back down at Bass, and he had his eyes closed again. Anxiety overtook everything else in her body, because there was something too still in the way he was lying there.

"Bass." She shook his shoulder, but he didn't respond. "Bass!"

Still she got nothing, and she went up on her knees to catch his face in her palms, her heart stuttering against the inside of her chest. "Bass, wake up."

His skin had taken on a grayish tinge, and her blood turned to ice. "Mom!"

Her mom came over and pressed her hand into the side of Bass' neck.

Rachel's expression turned grim, and she turned to level an intent stare on her.

"Charlie, are you sure you want to give him your blood?"

"Well, I sure as hell don't want him to die."

Her mom nodded and then stood. "Miles, let's get him up to a bedroom. We've got to hurry."

Rachel rushed over to grab the bag of medical equipment, while Miles got Bass up off the couch. They dragged him upstairs, putting him on the first bed they found.

"Charlie, lie next to him, on his left side," her mom instructed as she pulled out needles and a thin, clear plastic tube, among other things.

Charlie climbed up on the bed, a double big enough for two, but Bass took up more than his fair share of room. She laid down on her back, and turned her head to the side to stare at Bass while she waited for her mom to get on with things. She needed to keep watch over him, to make sure he was still breathing, still with them, until he got some of her blood into his system. And right now, she didn't want to think about why she was so desperate to make sure Sebastian Monroe stayed alive.

"Okay, Charlie, this will pinch a bit," he mom murmured.

She nodded, but didn't take her eyes off Bass. In the background, Miles stood with his arms crossed, his expression grim. The pounding of an aftershock battered her inside as reality fully sunk in. Miles was her _father_. The revelation was too upsetting and too wonderful all at the same time, but she forced the thoughts out of her mind.

In a matter of moments, Rachel had everything set up, and Charlie watched the dark red progression of blood leaving her arm and disappearing into Bass. She breathed a long sigh of relief, and then turned her head to stare up at the ceiling, brushing a hand over her face as a stray tear escaped. She was just exhausted, that was all. Staying awake and alert all night, while she worried about Bass had totally rail-roaded her. Once she had a few hours sleep, she'd be able to process everything more calmly.

"Okay." Rachel sighed as she straightened from the bed. "Miles, you want to help me sew up Bass' wrist? Otherwise, this blood transfusion will be pointless."

Miles nodded, his dark expression unchanging as he silently walked over to the bag and grabbed out some more supplies. Charlie swallowed down the tightness closing around her throat. Was Miles upset about the fact that her mom had kept the truth from him for all this time, or was he pissed to find out she was his kid? The lost little girl inside of her, the one who had once cried _everyone leaves me_, was desperate for Miles to accept her as his with open arms. But when it came to Miles, even after knowing him this past year, a lot of the time she still couldn't predict what he would do in any given situation.

Her mom and Miles hardly exchanged a word while they cut away Bass' bloody shirt, before cleaning his wounds and stitching him up. As soon as they were done, Miles stomped out of the room. Rachel stared pensively after him for a long moment, before turning to look down on her.

"I'll be back in a little while to disconnect you. Truthfully, Bass probably needs more than you can give him, but I don't want to hear any arguments from you when I say its time. There's no use putting your own life in danger as well."

She nodded in reply, still not feeling like she could say anything to her mom right now. Rachel sent her a smile, but it was the one she used when everything was turning to hell and she was trying to pretend like it wasn't. Charlie had seen that smile more than a few times recently and every time, it pissed her off. When things were bad, what was the point of pretending it was all rainbows and puppies?

Her mom gently squeezed her arm, before leaving the room.

Charlie blew out a long breath, able to relax a little now that she was finally alone. Well, almost alone. An unconscious Sebastian Monroe didn't really count for company. Though her eyes were heavy, she focused her attention on watching the rhythmic rise and fall of Bass' chest. Maybe it was just her imagination, but his color seemed to be improving, at least.

She must have dozed, because what seemed like a minute later, her mom had returned.

"Okay, Charlie, time to wrap it up."

Rachel pulled the cannula out of her arm, holding up the tubing so the last of her blood drained into Bass, before taking out his end as well. She pressed small squares of material against both their elbow joints, before leaning over to check Bass' pulse.

After a moment, she nodded. "It's improved. Hopefully he got enough to get him through." She shifted back again and turned her attention to Charlie. "You'll be light headed when you get up, so just take a minute, make sure you don't fall flat on your face. There's another bedroom across the hall, Miles and I will be taking turns keeping watch. You need to get a full night's sleep, okay?"

The stubborn side of her wanted to argue that she could take a watch, but knowing Miles and her mom, they wouldn't hear a word of it.

"Okay, I'll take the bed across the hall." She didn't sound the least bit grateful, but after everything that had happened, she just didn't have the energy to play nice.

Her mom stared at her for a moment, obviously wanting to say something. Instead, she shook her head and started out of the room. "Goodnight, Charlie."

Charlie sighed and rubbed her eyes, feeling like the bad guy for some stupid reason. It wasn't her fault that her mom kept secrets and dealt in half-truths. The woman she'd found when she'd gone searching for Danny hadn't been anything like the mother she remembered walking away from her. But maybe she'd never really known her mother at all. She'd only been a dumb kid, and apparently her mom had worked for some top secret government organization that dealt in weapons. The more she learned of her family, the more she realized she'd really had no clue.

Her eyes ached, and she rubbed them harder, frustration burning through her sadness. She just needed a minute. One quiet minute, and then she'd get up and go collapse in the bed across the hall, and maybe things wouldn't look so dismal in the morning.


	2. Chapter 2

Charlie squeezed her eyes tighter as sunlight slanted orange across her closed eyelids. She rubbed a hand over her face, neck aching at the bad angle she had her head on, and the lumpy pillow beneath the side of her face.

Except then she realized it wasn't a pillow, but a shoulder, warm and solid against her cheek. She cracked her eyes open against the glaring sun as too many sensations rushed at her. Her eyes focused on her hand, which was resting in the middle of Bass' chest. His free arm was wrapped around her back, his palm resting on her hip, and one of her legs was hooked over his left thigh.

So apparently she hadn't gotten up and gone across the hall to find her own bed, and at some point snuggled up to Bass like no one's business. It should have freaked her out, she should have been scrambling to get out of his arms and off the bed, but instead, her eyes drooped closed again, and she could have easily drifted back to sleep for another few hours. Waking up in a warm embrace was gratifying in a way she'd never experienced before. _Could get used to this…_

Bass shifted against her, his hand tightening on her hip, and that was enough to shoot her up with a good dose of reality. Oh god, was she really lying there, cuddling with Sebastian Monroe? She rolled away from him and sat up on the edge of the bed, heart pounding erratically. She pushed her hair out of her face and glanced over her shoulder at him. He mumbled something in his sleep, but otherwise didn't stir. Breathing a low sigh of relief at avoiding an awkward confrontation, she pushed to her feet and left the room, making her way downstairs. Miles was sleeping on the couch in the front room, and through the widows, she caught a glimpse of her mom standing out on the porch.

Covering a yawn with her hand, Charlie walked out through the kitchen, to the back porch and across the yard. Up against the side of the dilapidated barn were two barrels of rain water, one full and the other half empty. She took a moment to splash some water on her face and wash away the last foggy tendrils of sleep.

"Hey, kiddo, how'd you sleep?"

She wiped her forearm over the water dripping down her face as she turned to Miles. Heat bloomed in her chest and spread upward.

"Fine." Obviously he didn't know where she'd slept, otherwise this conversation probably would have ended with him shoving his fist in Bass' face, unconscious or not. "Did you get much sleep?"

He shrugged one shoulder and brushed by her to lean over the barrel. "A little."

He sluiced some water through his hair and over his face, before using his shirt to wipe off. "Listen, you think you can hold down the fort for a few hours? We'll probably have to stay here at least another forty eight hours if we want to make sure Bass is okay, so we'll need some supplies. Obviously your mom and I need to talk a few things out, so—"

"Of course, Uncle Miles." She snapped her mouth shut after the words came out automatically, feeling kind of dumb for saying them.

Miles shot her one of his half-smiles that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Not anymore."

"I'm sorry."

"Hey, you're not the one who needs to apologize, here." Miles shook his head, staring off into the distance. "I know this changes things, and I'm sure there's things you expect of me, Charlie, but I'm gonna need a minute—"

She reached out to close her hand around his forearm. "I don't expect anything from you, Miles. Truthfully, I'm pretty confused about what this means for us myself. So I get that you need time to wrap your head around it."

He nodded, his expression relaxing a little. "Glad we're on the same page… kind of."

They started back towards the house, and Charlie shoved her hands into her pockets as she walked.

"You know, it does help me make sense of some things. My dad and I— Ben, we never saw eye to eye. It was like he just didn't get me at all. We used to fight all the time, couldn't agree on anything. But you and I?" She paused and shook her head. "Well, we're just like two peas in a pod, right?"

Miles sent her a sideways glance. "Yeah, stubborn as all hell, and a pain in the ass when we don't get our way."

She laughed, though the sound was strained. Miles had become a father figure to her since she'd found him in Chicago, there was no denying that. She'd just never expected to find out he was literally her father. It was going to take some getting used to, and right now, things felt kind of awkward between them, as much as she hated that.

They walked into the kitchen and found Rachel standing at the table, securing the straps on her pack. She looked tired, dark smudges under her eyes. But as always, she sent them a smile, the let's-pretend-we're-all-good one that Charlie was getting sick of seeing.

"Are you ready to go, Miles?" Rachel asked, swinging her bag onto her back.

"Just let me grab my crap." Miles turned to Charlie and closed his hand around her shoulder for a quick moment. "We'll be back in a few hours, kid. You and Bass have had enough excitement for one week, so no more drama, okay?"

This time her grin was easy and genuine. "I can only try to keep us out of trouble, but I'm not promising anything."

Miles sent her a stern look, before brushing by Rachel and heading to the front room. She and her mom followed him, and then Charlie went out to the porch to wave them off as they walked away from the house.

Once they were out of sight, she went inside to find her own pack and scrounge up some food. A crust of dry bread was all she had left, and she ate it while she gave herself a tour of the house, checking all the nooks and corners. When she'd familiarized herself with the layout, she gathered up her crossbow and went back through the kitchen. Bass would need something substantial to eat when he woke up, and she needed something to keep herself occupied.

An hour later, she'd managed to shoot a duck, but there wasn't much else to hunt. Obviously the area had been hunted nearly clean by the locals and patriot soldiers camping closer to the town.

As she walked along the length of the barn, a low string of curses in a familiar voice snagged her attention, and she rounded the end of the building to find Bass leaning over the barrel of water. He hadn't put a shirt on, and held a razor in his good hand, head tilted as he looked into a small, square mirror hanging from a nail. He'd nicked his jaw, and a small rivulet of blood dripped down his neck.

"Should you really be on your feet?" She walked past him to hang the duck on a hook, set down her crossbow, and then stepped closer to the barrel to wash her hands.

"I woke up a while ago to an empty house. For a minute there, I wondered if you'd all gone off and left me for dead. And did you really think I'd stay in bed? I needed some fresh air, and I needed to shave. These whiskers itch like crazy. Obviously I don't need to disguise my face anymore, since everyone thinks I was executed."

"You thought a moustache and a few whiskers were a disguise?"

He sent her a sideways glare that said _shut up_ loud and clear.

She bit her lip to stop herself from grinning. "I wouldn't have gone out hunting if I'd known you were going to wake up so soon. Miles and my mom have gone for supplies." No mention of their sleeping arrangement. Cool relief ran through her. Maybe he didn't have a clue they'd spent half the night pressed up against one another. It would certainly make it easier for her to pretend like it hadn't happened if he didn't know about it. "And I'm so glad I gave you half my blood so you could slice your own neck open."

He seemed to freeze, before turning to focus on her. "You gave me your blood, not Miles?"

His intent blue gaze made her stomach do a slow flip. "Like my mom said, Miles couldn't do it, so what else were we going to do?"

An unreadable expression crossed his face.

"Then I owe you my thanks, and my life. For a second time." His intense gaze searched her face, causing heat to trickle through her. "You really are making a habit of saving me, aren't you?"

His concentrated regard made that weird, hyper-aware feeling overtake her, just like it had in the factory. She shrugged to cover her discomfit. "Its no big deal, next week you'll probably screw me over, and then I'll be back to wanting to kill you."

He reached out to grab her arm, pulling her in a little closer. "I would never betray you, Charlie; you have my word on that."

Her heart skipped a rushed beat, his low vow echoing all the way to her soul. She swallowed, returning his silent stare for a moment. Words tumbled through her mind, about not trusting anything Sebastian Monroe said, and definitely not taking his word at face value. But something in the way he watched her made her believe he absolutely meant what he'd said.

She reached up to touch his jaw, where he'd cut himself. "You need to be a little more careful."

His expression turned rueful. "Apparently shaving left-handed is next to impossible, and my hold isn't exactly steady."

"You just don't know when to ask for help, do you?" She took the razor out of his hand.

"It's been a long time since I trusted anyone enough to know I could ask."

How had he lived like that for so long? Always having to watch his back, never knowing who might try to kill him. It didn't forgive anything he'd done, but for the first time, she saw Miles' betrayal of him in a different light.

She stepped closer to him, touching her fingers to his chin and urging him to tilt his head. She concentrated on carefully sliding the sharp razor over his skin, so she didn't cut him again. However, she knew he was staring at her the whole time, she felt the forceful regard rippling all the way to her toes.

By the time she'd finished, her own hands weren't so steady any longer. She blew out a quiet, uneven breath as she set the razor aside and picked up the threadbare towel hanging over the edge of the barrel. She turned back to Bass, though he hadn't moved a muscle. As she slowly wiped the towel over his face to take away the excess lather, his jaw clenched beneath her hand, making her pause.

"Charlie—" His low voice had a rumble to it she'd never heard before, but it set off a burst of butterflies in her stomach.

The crunch of footsteps snagged her attention and she dropped the towel as she turned away from Bass, getting her hands on her crossbow and swinging it around to aim in the direction of the noise, steadily getting closer to them.


	3. Chapter 3

Bass grabbed his sword from where he'd left it next to the barn wall. It felt a little awkward using his left hand as his main sword-arm, but it was a damn side better than being unarmed.

Charlie had backed up against the barn wall and was slipping closer to the corner. As she got there, a woman appeared, leading with a semi-automatic handgun. Charlie used her crossbow to knock the gun out of the woman's hand, before swinging back the other way to elbow her in the face.

The woman stumbled back a step, but then drew a knife, bringing it up to hold Charlie off. The woman wore a sleeveless shirt, weapons sheathed along a thick belt and had tatts up and down her arms. Her dirty blonde hair was hacked into a short crop, and a scar ran down the left side of her face. A bounty hunter, if he had to guess. Bass tightened his grip on his sword and stepped closer to Charlie. If he tried to protect her, she'd only get pissed with him, plus with his right hand out of commission and the fact he wasn't operating at full speed, he'd only put both of them in danger. He'd have to trust his tough girl could handle herself, and back her up if she needed it.

"Charlotte Matheson, I've been looking for you." The woman sent Charlie a dark grin, before pulling a pair of flex-cuffs off her belt and throwing them at Charlie's feet. "Make it easy on yourself and put these on. My ride will be here in a minute."

Charlie glanced down at the flex-cuffs, before looking back at the woman.

"Sorry, I'm not going anywhere."

Bass saw Charlie's shoulders tighten, a sure give that she was about to fire the crossbow. The woman must have seen it as well, because she dropped into a roll, and the arrow missed its mark. Charlie abandoned her crossbow and pulled out a knife as the woman came up into a crouch. She went at Charlie with her own knife, and while they were distracted, Bass went for the gun. He scooped it up from the ground and spun back to line up a target.

The woman and Charlie were struggling against one another, too close for him to shoot the bounty hunter without risking Charlie as well, especially considering he had to shoot with his left hand.

"Come on, come on," he muttered, tension making his neck muscles ache, while his heart thumped against the inside of his chest.

Charlie head-butted the woman, making her stumble back a step and Bass didn't hesitate. He squeezed of a round, and the bullet found its mark in the woman's head. She collapsed to the ground in a heap, as Bass lowered the gun.

Charlie bent over and braced her hands on her knees, breathing heavily.

"Charlie, you okay?" He flicked the safety on and shoved the gun into his pants, before stepping closer to her.

"Yeah, I'm okay." She straightened, wiping the back of her hand across her mouth, smearing a trickle of blood.

Bass grabbed the damp towel from the ground, but when he tried to touch it to her face, she ducked out of the way and took it from him.

He sighed and shook his head, before walking over to strip the woman of her weapons. In one of her pockets, he found a folded piece of paper, and knew what it was, even as he flicked it open.

"Charlie?"

He glanced up at her, and then handed the wanted poster over as she stopped in front of him.

"What the hell?" She muttered. She held up the piece of paper, distress in her gaze, though it was edged with a good dose of anger. "What does the US government want with me?"

She ripped the paper in half, and then half again, tearing until it turned into confetti.

"I don't know." He closed his hand over her shoulder as she let the paper flutter to the ground. "But we'll figure it out. Your mom, Miles and me, we're not going to let anything happen to you, got that?"

She glanced up at him, and he could see she didn't fully believe him. "Right."

Shrugging out of his grip, she bent to retrieve her crossbow.

Bass dragged a hand through his hair and glanced back at the dead woman. They'd need to do something about getting rid of the body, but he couldn't do it one handed, and Charlie obviously wasn't in the right frame of mind to be digging graves right now.

He went to the barrel and shrugged into the shirt he'd brought out with him, but paused as a jangle sounded somewhere behind him. He turned, as the sound of horses and men came from somewhere in the woods beyond the house.

The bounty hunter's words about her _ride being here in a minute_ steamrolled him, and he spun to where Charlie was stalking back toward the house. He ran to catch up with her, injured arm and shoulder throbbing all the way.

"Charlie, we've got company, probably Patriots or more bounty hunters," he said as they reached the porch.

She glanced over her shoulder. "How many?"

He stepped forward to open the back door. "I don't know. We have to run."

She shook her head. "You're not in any condition to be running anywhere, Bass. Come on."

He followed her to the front of the house, and she paused halfway along the hallway. Pressing on a panel low in the wall, a concealed door swung outward to reveal a short, narrow cupboard under the stairs.

"Harry Potter, eat your heart out," he muttered. There was a box of junk shoved in the far corner, but otherwise it was empty. "How did you know about this?"

She shrugged one shoulder. "I cased the joint this morning after Miles and my mom left. Get in, you have to hide."

A thread of cynical humor wove through him. How the mighty had fallen. General Sebastian Monroe was about to hide in a pitiful excuse for a cupboard. Once, he would have never even considered hiding from a fight, but it seemed he was willing to do a lot for Charlie.

Bass ducked down and went into the cupboard, turning to sit with his back to the wall. Charlie nodded, before stepping back, but he leaned forward and grabbed her wrist before she could get very far.

"What do you think you're doing?"

She tugged at her wrist. "I'm going to take care of whoever's out there. They're not going to be very happy when they find that dead bounty hunter."

A gush of incredulous anger rode up within him. "No, they won't be. So there's no way you're going out there to fight while I hide in this hole."

She glared right back at him. "Yeah, I am. Besides, there's not enough room for both of us."

He tightened his hold around her wrist. "I'm not staying in here unless you hide with me. Miles would have my head if I let you put yourself in danger."

"Monroe—"

"I'm serious, Charlie. If you don't want me out there fighting, then get your ass in this cupboard."

She sighed and glanced back over her shoulder. A shout sounded from the backyard, the body had been discovered.

"Fine," she muttered darkly.

Bass sat back, pulling Charlie with him. She'd been right, there really wasn't room for two people in the cupboard, and she had to sling a leg over his as she swung the door shut. She braced a knee on either side of his thighs, and then reached out to balance herself with a hand against the wall above his head.

A crash echoed from the back of the house, and then boots thumped over the floors. Charlie adjusted her position, and he could tell she was uncomfortable, kneeling awkwardly above him.

"Charlie, who knows how long we're going to be in here," he whispered. "You might as well get comfortable."

In the muted light coming in around the door, she stared at him for a long moment, her lips pressed into a thin line. For a second, he thought she was going to keep with her usual stubborn streak and refuse, but then she sighed and slowly lowered herself to sit on his lap.

Bass clenched his hand against the floor to stop himself from clamping his hand onto her hips like he wanted to. The girl was starting to tie him up in knots. Out in the yard, when she'd shaved him, he'd known she wasn't trying anything on with him, but it hadn't stopped his blood from going into a slow boil.

There were a million reasons why he couldn't have her, beginning with the age gap and ending with Miles being her father. But there was no denying the spark between them; one that only seemed to grow stronger the more time they spent together.

Charlie moved a little, but then seemed to freeze. "Monroe, that better not be what I think it is, otherwise I'm going to get my knife out—"

"It's just my gun, Charlie, I swear." He swallowed down the grin, knowing it would only piss her off more.

She opened her mouth, probably to give him a piece of her mind, but boot steps thumped past their cupboard, and she closed her lips again, sending him an unimpressed glare.

He glanced away from her, turning his attention to listen as the house was searched. Six men, if he had to guess. And there could be more outside. Time crawled by, but no one even paused outside their hidey-hole. After a while, everything went quiet. By then, Charlie had seemingly gotten used to their close contact, and fully relaxed into him. Bastard that he was, he'd been enjoying the slight weight of her on top of him way too much.

"Do you think they're gone?" She asked once the house had fallen silent.

"Hopefully, but we'll give it a little while before we climb out, to be sure."

Just to be on the safe side… not because he wanted to spend the rest of the day in here, with Charlie all over him.

* * *

_I know, how dare I end it there! But don't worry, another update will be coming soon. Just a quick note to say THANKS for the latest follows, favorites and reviews I've gotten. We're only a few days out from Revolution returning to TV and I can't wait, hoping that Charlie and Bass will get teamed up for all sorts of situations like they did in the last few episodes. In the meantime, I'll continue entertaining myself and all of you by writing this fanfic. _

_Happy reading, everyone! _

_:)_

_~x LizAna_


	4. Chapter 4

Charlie wasn't sure when she'd stopped holding herself so rigidly. At first it had been too much, literally sitting on top of Bass, hyper-aware of all the places they touched. But he hadn't made a move to put his hands on her, and had seemingly been paying more attention to the noises crashing through the house than he had of her.

Now, everything had fallen quiet, and she had nothing to distract her from their close proximity.

"Miles and my mom should be back soon," she said, just to make conversation.

Bass nodded, his lips quirking into a short smile, his blue gaze knowing, as though he was fully aware of what she was doing. He shifted beneath her, bringing her attention right back around to their intimate position.

"How's your arm? Are you feeling okay?" He shouldn't have been hiding out in a closet, putting up with her sitting on him only twenty four hours after nearly dying from bleeding out.

"I'm fine, Charlie. A little tired, but I'm okay."

Like he'd tell her if he wasn't.

"Maybe we could move, change positions or something."

He gave a quiet laugh. "What are we going to do? Have me sit on top of you? I outweigh you by a hundred pounds."

She started to move back. "Seriously, you can't be comfortable—"

His hand landed in the middle of her lower back, stopping her from going anywhere. "It's fine, Charlie, you hardly weigh anything, and if we try rearranging ourselves, all we'll end up doing is jostling my arm, and wearing me out."

She blew out a short breath, noting that Bass hadn't moved his hand from where it had landed just above her butt. "I can't just sit here—"

"So I noticed," he returned dryly. "Just give it a few more minutes, and then we'll climb out."

She nodded, tense all over again, just like she'd been when they'd first shut themselves in.

"Charlie, you're killing me here, just relax. What exactly do you think is going to happen?"

She didn't know. Probably nothing. But there was something almost tangible growing between her and Bass. She couldn't ignore it any longer, couldn't pretend like she didn't know what the heated awareness was. It was wrong. He was wrong for her. It shouldn't, _couldn't_ happen between them. Except her heart pounded whenever he got too close, and her chest ached as she let the forbidden idea of kissing him flood through her mind.

Heat flashed through her in wake of the shocking notion. Never mind trusting Sebastian Monroe, apparently it was her own control she needed to be concerned about. She closed her eyes and took a long, unsteady breath.

"Charlie… Charlotte." Bass' low murmur vibrated all the way down her spine.

She opened her eyes to look at him in the dim light, as his hand smoothed upward along the middle of her back, slowly but surly pressing her closer to his chest.

His hand clamped around the back of her neck, fingers rough against her sensitive skin, and suddenly she couldn't breathe. His mouth was right there, his heated blue gaze burning into her, making her want things she had no words for.

Somehow, her hands landed on his shoulders, and his muscles were hard and warm beneath her palms.

Except then his gaze cut away from her, and she could see his attention shifting.

"Can you smell that?" A distant note of apprehension in his tone cleared her mind better than a bucket of ice dumped over her head.

She inhaled, an acrid scent burning her sinuses.

"Its smoke." Bass set her back from him. "Charlie, we've got to get out of here."

She leaned to the side and shoved at the panel, forcing the door to pop open. A cloud of thick black smoke rolled into the small space, and the next breath she took scraped her throat raw, until she started coughing.

Charlie crawled out of the cupboard, Bass on her heels. Flames flickered up the walls, catching on furniture, while the smoke pressed in lower, leaving no air to breathe.

"Charlie, stay down." Bass yelled, his hand on her back forcing her into a crawl. They made it to the front door, but when she went to push it open, it wouldn't budge. She tried again, throwing her whole body at it in desperation, but got nothing except a sore shoulder.

"Bass, it won't open." Her voice had climbed higher with panic, but who could stay calm at the prospect of getting burned alive?

"They probably blocked it up, come on, let's try the back." Bass coughed and latched a hand onto her arm, dragging her back into the dark hallway.

The inferno blazed higher now, flames licking along the ceiling, while a muted roar harmonized discordantly with the crackle of dry, burning wood. They made it through the kitchen, and Bass practically fell through the backdoor ahead of her.

They stumbled down the steps, gasping at the cool, clean air. Charlie fell to her hands and knees in the middle of the yard, Bass beside her, trying to stem a fit of coughing.

Someone grabbed a handful of her hair and wrenched her backwards. She cried out in anger, looking up to see a Patriot leaning over her.

"Under orders from Commander Allenford, Charlotte Matheson, you are under arrest—"

A figure loomed up beside her, and the Patriot soldier went down, Bass on top of him. But the struggle didn't last long, as two other soldiers came forward and pulled Bass off, forcing him down to his knees, before securing his hands behind his back.

Charlie reached for her knife with a slow movement, hoping no one would pay her any attention while they were all focused on Bass. Except there were seven other patriot soldiers surrounding them, all armed to the teeth, and if she knifed their leader, she wouldn't get to do any more damage before they took her out.

The commanding soldier had pushed himself to his feet. He wiped the back of his hand across the blood dripping from his nose, before walking over and then backhanding Bass into the dust.

"No—" she started toward him, but one of the soldiers grabbed her. She turned on the Patriot, leading with her knife, but he caught her wrist, twisting until pain shot down her arm and she released her grip on the handle.

"Charlie," Bass coughed, and pushed himself up. "Don't fight them, there's too many, you'll only get hurt."

The soldier who'd taken her knife shoved her down next to Bass, before another cuffed her wrists. She met Bass' gaze, and saw the lethal, furious light burning in his eyes. No matter how angry he got, she couldn't see how they were going to get out of this in one piece.


	5. Chapter 5

Bass spat blood into the dirt and then forced himself up to his knees next to Charlie. None of the soldiers surrounding them looked much older than their mid-twenties, and they all had an unhinged, vacant gleam in their eyes. Yeah, he knew a reprogramming when he saw one. Even when he and Miles had been back in the Marines, fighting for the good old US of A, the government had been experimenting with that kind of thing, and it had never turned out well. The only thing those reprogrammed soldiers had been good for was slaughter without mercy. And Charlie had thought him a soulless killer. He was a fluffy kitten compared to these guys.

"Charlotte Matheson, you are under arrest by order of Commander Allenford of the United States government." The commanding officer announced, before motioning to one of the nearby soldiers. "Put her on the wagon."

One of the Patriots hauled Charlie to her feet, and Bass scrambled up. No way was he letting Charlie out of his sight, not with these Robocop bastards. But he didn't get far, as another soldier clamped a hand on his shoulder.

He jerked against the hold, but the son of a bitch wouldn't let him go. "If you're taking her, then you get me as well. We're a two for one deal."

The commanding solider glanced at him. "And who might you be?"

"My name's George Clooney."

Charlie glanced back at him, and he sent her a quick smile. None of these kids were old enough to remember pre-blackout.

"We've got orders to retrieve the girl. You, we don't need." The soldier turned his back and went to climb up on his horse.

Bass twisted out from underneath the grip of the soldier holding him and then rammed his elbow into the guy's stomach. The next one who went for him got head-butted, and he was about to kick a third in the teeth when a shot rang out.

He flinched and paused, swinging around to look at Charlie. She'd been handcuffed in the front of a supply wagon and was tugging against the chains. The man sitting behind the reins slapped her, and pure, white-hot rage blazed through Bass.

The commanding soldier walked his horse forward a few steps to loom over him. "We don't need you, Mr. Clooney, but if you keep that up, I will shoot you before I leave here."

"You're not taking her—"

The soldier closest to him smashed the butt of his rifle into the side of Bass' head. He went down, getting up close and personal with the dirt again, as Charlie started yelling his name. But he couldn't lift his head, and as he tried to roll over, a boot coming in his direction was the last thing he saw.

* * *

"Bass. _Bass_. Wake up, god damn it."

A deluge of water splashed over his face and Bass rolled, coughing at the extremely unpleasant sensation of water up his nose. He forced his eyes opened, but it took a moment for the blurry shapes in front of him to come into focus.

"There you go, buddy. Keep those eyes open."

"Miles." His voice came out hoarse, no doubt due to the smoke inhalation. And just like that, everything came back to him and his brain helped his sluggish body out by shooting him up with a dose of pure adrenaline. "Where's Charlie?"

He sat up, but swayed, before Miles caught his shoulder. "Not here, I thought you could tell us. What the hell happened?"

His head throbbed, and he rubbed his temple where the butt of the rifle had nailed him. "They took her."

Miles' grip on his shoulder tightened. "Who took her?"

Rachel appeared from the other side of the barn.

"I couldn't find her, Miles," she called as she hurried closer.

"Bass, who took her?" Miles demanded, a hint of panic in his voice.

"Some bounty hunter turned up holding a wanted poster with Charlie's name on it, and then before we knew it, the place was crawling with Patriots. We hid, but the bastards smoked us out. That's when they took Charlie and clocked me out cold."

Fury started burning away the last few cobwebs dragging at his mind. They'd hit her, chained her up, and carted her off to god knew where. Every single one of those sons of bitches were going to pay in blood once he caught up with them.

"Why do the Patriots want Charlie?" Rachel crossed her arms, her posture tight with worry.

"Right now, it doesn't matter why they want her; the fact is they got her." Miles helped Bass to his feet. "How long a head start do you think they've got, Bass?"

He shook his head, frustrated at the fatigue riding him. First he'd almost bled out, and twenty four hours later he'd taken one hell of a beating. Much more of this and Charlie would have her wish from all those months ago when she'd wanted him dead.

"I don't know how long I was out for. Ten minutes or two hours, take your pick." He grabbed a handful of Miles' shirt at the shoulder. "Miles, these weren't normal, run-of-the-mill Patriot soldiers. Not one of them would have been over twenty-five, and I'm pretty sure they'd been reprogrammed. Like, US government experimental reprogramming."

Miles swore under his breath.

"What are you talking about?" Rachel asked.

"When Bass and I were in the Marines, the government was experimenting with reconditioning to make better soldiers. Soldiers who would make decisions without emotion weighing into the equation, soldiers who wouldn't suffer from things like PTSD no matter what they experienced on the battlefront. It worked a little too well, but in not the way the government expected. Those men, Rachel…" Miles ran a hand through his hair. "They were like rabid dogs on a leash, and if they got off—"

"And these are the men who've got Charlie?" Rachel braced a hand against her mouth, expression distressed.

Miles wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her closer for a moment. "We'll get her back, Rachel, I promise. If the government wants her, then those soldiers won't hurt her, they'll follow orders like robots."

Rachel pulled away from him, and crossed her arms. "Don't make me promises you've got no way of keeping, Miles."

She turned away from him and walked over to stand near the barn.

Bass glanced from Rachel, to the frustrated, pained expression on Miles' face. "So I'm guessing all that alone time you and Rachel had this morning didn't help you get anything sorted out."

Miles sent him a dark look. "Not now, Bass. Come on, the sooner we catch up with Charlie, the better."


	6. Chapter 6

**The Plains Nation, three days later**

Bass flexed his injured hand, trying to work out the tingling. It was healing, slowly, and despite the last few days of hard travel, he felt stronger, though still not up to full speed. Rachel had told him he was probably going to have permanent nerve damage, and the best way to counteract it was to rehab his hand. Like what, he was going to check himself into some fancy hospital and lounge around watching daytime soaps in between seeing some fancy physiotherapy doctor?

He'd figured the best he could do was use it, and it helped distracted him from what might be happening to Charlie, so he did reps, flexing his hand, pointing his fingers, and gripping a ragged tennis ball he'd found as they'd passed through a town the day before. Still, he couldn't keep the tough girl out of his thoughts for long, her and that torturous stretch of time they'd spent hiding in that cupboard. And if he didn't happen to think about it half a million times a day, at night what little sleep he could get was disturb by dreams that ended in a very different way to reality.

Bass knew he was a lot of things - most of them not good - but was he really going to be that guy, panting after a girl half his age? The kicker being that she was Miles' kid. Hell, if he had a daughter, he wouldn't have let her within a hundred feet of Miles if he knew his buddy had a thing for her. If he was truly the brother to Miles he claimed to be, then he'd take a step back, and leave Charlie be. Except how could he, when she made him feel things he hadn't in years, made him think that maybe, just maybe, he could find salvation after all.

He'd been hoping they'd catch up to Charlie and the Patriots who'd taken her within a couple of hours, but getting across the boarder had been harder than they'd anticipated, and it had delayed them almost a full day. Once they'd made it into the Plains Nation, they'd found themselves some horses and ridden hard to catch up.

The Patriot soldiers had brought Charlie to a large town, surrounded by a massive razor wire fence, with sentries marching up and down the perimeter. If they'd thought Willoughby heavily guarded, then this set up made Rachel's home town look like amateur hour.

"What the hell is this place?" Miles muttered. They were a little way down the road, standing to the side and watching what small amount of traffic was coming and going from the town gates. Pretty much everyone passing through had on a Patriot uniform, and if they weren't wearing a uniform, then they were accompanied by someone who was.

"Some sort of Patriot strong hold, by the looks of it," Bass replied. "The bigger question is, how are we going to get inside?"

"Well, for a start, I think we need to get our hands on a uniform," Miles said at the same time the idea occurred to Bass.

"We'll only need one. You could tie my wrists, walk me through the gate and take me to the lock up."

Miles nodded thoughtfully. "That's assuming they've got Charlie in the town lockup."

Bass shrugged. "If she's not there, we'll reassess. But my guess is, they're not going to view her as a high risk prisoner."

"What can I do?" Rachel put in.

Miles turned to look at her, a closed expression on his face. "You're going to head back down to that abandoned roadhouse we saw a few miles back and wait for us."

She crossed her arms, sending him a glare. "I'm not going to sit around and do nothing. That's my daughter in there."

"I know, Rachel." Miles returned quietly. "Because she's my kid too. But we can't risk you going in there, not when there are still wanted posters floating around with your name on them as well."

For a long moment they stared at each other, before Rachel finally dropped her gaze. "Fine, I'll wait for you. But please, Miles, be careful."

He nodded as he helped her up onto a horse. "You know I will."

Rachel pressed her lips together and shook her head slightly. "No, you won't, but you still always manage to come out in one piece."

She tugged the horse's reins to turn the animal, and Miles stepped back, watching for a moment as she rode away.

"Okay," Miles said, turning to face him. "Let's go get our girl back."

Bass nodded, and they moved off the side of the road, watching the activity at the gate for a while, before picking a target. They followed a lone soldier for about a mile, out of view from the town, before taking him down and stripping him out of his uniform.

Once Miles had changed into it, he grabbed a pair of cuffs and secured them around Bass' wrists.

"How's your hand been holding up these last couple of days?" Miles left the cuffs loose, and Bass shot him a glare.

"Its fine, so the least you can do is make this look realistic."

Miles frowned at him, and snapped the cuffs tight enough to make him wince.

"Happy now?" Miles asked.

"Screw you very much," Bass muttered as they started back toward the main road leading to the town gates.

Miles marched him ahead as they approached the gates. Bass kept his gaze low, but was cataloging men and weapons with every step he took. At the gate, manned by half a dozen soldiers, not a single one said anything to him or Miles, which seemed pretty damn slack when it came to security measures. In a matter of moments, they'd cleared the gate and were heading deeper into town.

"Did that seem too easy to you?" Bass asked over his shoulder.

Miles had a skeptical expression on his face. "Considering our luck? Yeah, that was way too easy."

At the beginning of the next block, Miles stopped to ask directions to the town lockup, and then they continued on, getting closer to the town square.

When the jail came into view, Miles stepped in and grabbed his arm, making it look like he was forcing Bass along.

"After I leave you in the lock up, I'll come back in a few hours and see if I can bluff my way into a prisoner transport or something, to get the two of you out. In the meantime, you locate Charlie, make sure she's okay."

Bass gave a shallow nod, as a Patriot soldier who'd been standing on the front steps of the lock up walked toward them.

"I'll take the prisoner from here," the soldier said, stopping them from going any father.

"If it's all the same to you, I'll see him put away." Miles said with an easy smile, though his dark gaze held a hard edge.

The patriot soldier eyed Miles more closely. "Protocol, you know the rules."

Miles released Bass' arm and gave him a not-so-friendly shove toward the soldier. "The son of a bitch tried to steal my horse, so I was hoping I could slam the lock up door in his face myself."

The soldier didn't look impressed with Miles' story as he grabbed Bass by the shirt collar. "Got to follow procedure, no matter what."

Miles stepped back. "Of course, wouldn't want to mess up all that protocol."

The patriot yanked at his shirt, and Bass shot Miles a look over his shoulder as he followed the soldier up the stairs. Miles sent him a subtle nod, before walking off, quickly disappearing into the crowd.

The soldier led Bass through a series of checkpoints, the security getting tighter the deeper they got into the building. At last, they came to large room split into two big cells, men in one side, women in the other. There were about eight men and five women sitting or standing around, including one Charlotte Matheson, crouched in the far corner and keeping to herself.

Bass swallowed a smile as the soldier led him over to the men's side. He'd found her, now he just had to hope that he and Miles could find a way to get them both out again.


	7. Chapter 7

Charlie kept her gaze straight ahead, looking at nothing in particular, but had her attention on the woman pacing the front of the bars. That one was looking for a fight, no doubt about it, and the other three women in the cell seem to realize it as well. They were all keeping quiet and away from her, but considering the woman's agitated state, it wouldn't take much to set her off.

Ever since the Patriots had cuffed Charlie to that wagon and taken her away, leaving Bass lying on the ground, trepidation had been steadily climbing within her. She couldn't get the image of that Patriot soldier kicking Bass in the head out of her mind. She'd gotten her own back, though. The day before, when they'd taken her off the wagon to stop for the night, she'd tried to make a run for it. That same patriot had been in her way, and she'd been only too happy to stab him with the screwdriver she'd found in the back of the supply wagon.

Unfortunately, her escape attempt had been short lived. She'd guessed she wouldn't get far, but she'd had to try.

That beating would have put Bass down, but knowing him, he would have been up and vowing bloody revenge in under an hour. Bass, Miles, and her mom would definitely be coming after her.

When they'd brought her into this Patriot controlled town, the apprehension had wound tighter, because it would be a lot more dangerous for them to get her out of this place, than when she'd been cuffed to a wagon on the open road.

The far doors opened and the guards led in another prisoner. For a moment, Charlie kept her attention on the riled woman, still pacing like a bristling dog. But when the soldier crossed into her line of sight with his captive, her mind went blank with shock for a second. She was on her feet before she'd even realized she intended to stand up.

The soldier shoved Bass into the male side of the cells and then took his cuffs off, before stepping back to lock the door again. Charlie counted to ten, waiting for the guard to leave the room, before hurrying over to the partition between the two sides.

Bass met her there, and in that moment, she absolutely hated that there were only a few thick metal poles separating them.

"Bass, what the hell are you doing here?" she whispered, curling her hands around the bars so she didn't reach for him. It didn't signify that she desperately wanted to hug him, she would have felt the same if it'd been Miles or her mom standing there… okay, maybe not her mom.

"Rescuing you." It was half statement, half question. He reached through the bars and touched her chin, tilting her head up a little. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, they treated me fairly well, considering."

"That bruise on your jaw tells me otherwise." His blue gaze darkened with violent intensity, and for a moment, he looked like the General Sebastian Monroe she'd first met, the one she'd hated and wanted to kill.

"I tried to escape, and that was what I got in return."

"Sons of bitches," he muttered darkly. His fingers on her chin slid along her jaw, before tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

She shifted back a little, still not sure how she felt about this new familiarity that had evolved between them. "So what's the plan?"

Bass glanced around, before retuning his attention to her. "We left your mom outside the gates. Miles got his hands on a Patriot uniform; he was the one who brought me in. He's coming back in a few hours to see if he can bluff his way into a prisoner transport for the two of us. In the meantime, we just have to hang tight."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "That's it? And what happens if the prisoner transport angle doesn't work?"

He shrugged one shoulder. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. Don't worry, Miles and I have gotten each other out of worse scrapes than this."

Before she could reply, she caught sight of another male prisoner moving closer to Bass.

"Hey! I know you," The guy said, stopping a few steps away. "Holy hell, you're General Sebastian Monroe."

Bass shot her an exasperated glance.

"Shouldn't have shaved after all," he muttered, before turning to face the other prisoner. "I get that a lot, apparently I look like him. Didn't you hear? The Texans executed Monroe with a lethal injection."

The guy shook his head, before pushing up his sleeve up and flashing the_ M_ brand on his arm. "I don't know who the Texans killed, but I'd know the president of the Monroe Republic anywhere. The last promotion I got, they let me shake your hand, and you thanked me for my commendable service."

Bass glanced back at her with an unreadable expression, before returning his attention to the man.

"The Monroe Republic fell, and I'm not that man any longer," he said quietly.

From the corner of her eye, Charlie saw they'd attracted the attention of the woman who'd been pacing the bars.

"Did I hear right?" She demanded. "Are you really Sebastian Monroe?"

Bass ' expression hardened as he glanced at the woman, but he didn't reply.

"You son of a bitch!" She screamed, stalking closer. "I lost my entire family when you nuked Atlanta."

Charlie started to move back, but the woman lunged, and grabbed a handful of her hair.

"Is this your bitch, huh Monroe, does this skanky piece of tail belong to you? How about I rearrange her pretty face for you?"

Antagonism burned through Charlie as she reached up to grab the woman's arm. What in the hell was it with people yanking her hair this week? She got a grip on the woman's wrist, and then twisted her body at the same time she twisted the woman's arm. The woman shrieked, releasing her grip on Charlie's hair. It was either that or get her arm broken. Charlie ducked out of the woman's reach and came around swinging, catching her in the side of the face with a fist. The woman stumbled back a step, but the hit only seemed to make her angrier.

"Charlie, come here." Bass ordered her, his voice hard. Usually she would have argued about being able to take care of herself, but as the woman glared at her with a definite crazy-bitch gleam in her eyes, she decided having Sebastian Monroe at her back might not be such a bad idea, even if a row of bars separated them.

She backed up, not taking her eyes off the woman, until her upper back came into contact with the bars. Bass' hands landed on her shoulders, warm, heavy, and tight.

"You got a problem with me, that's fine. But you don't take it out on her, got it?" Bass' low voice vibrated with violent intensity, sending a shiver down her spine.

The woman cut Bass a thwarted glare, but didn't say anything else, before returning to the front of the cell, resuming her pacing.

Charlie blew out a long breath, letting some of the tension she'd been carrying for the last few days go with it.

"I'm sorry about that, Charlie," Bass murmured.

She turned to face him. "Not your fault, Bass."

He didn't look at her, his attention on the pacing woman, haunted shadows darkening his blue gaze. "Actually, it's all my fault."

Before she could reply, he moved away from her, going to lean against the adjacent wall, before sliding down into a crouch, and scrubbing a hand over his hair.

There was nothing she could say in that moment. He had that look, the one she saw on Miles sometimes, the one that said he was counting his sins and realizing he would never be able to atone for them. She walked to the back of the cell, putting her directly opposite him, and dropped to sit. She'd be there, when he was ready to come back to her.


	8. Chapter 8

Bass dragged a hand over his face and glanced up as the outer door opened and a handful of soldiers walked in. He wasn't sure how long he'd been sitting there, trying to fight down the memories of his recent past.

At the time, every decision he'd made had seemed like the right one. He'd thought his intentions were pure because they'd been born of a need to protect Miles, just as Miles had been there for him through the worst moments of his life. But then Miles had left, but not before his brother had shoved a gun in his face and shattered what was left of his soul.

After that, things had gotten a little hazy. He'd never had any real direction, running the Monroe Militia had seemed pointless without Miles. So he'd thrown his whole life into his obsession with gaining power, because it had been the only thing he'd had left. In the end, it had been his ultimate downfall. And no matter how far he ran, he'd never be able to escape it.

He slowly pushed to his feet as the guards fanned out in front of the cells, before a senior officer walked forward.

"On your feet, people, its time for processing." The commanding soldier announced.

Bass shot a quick look at Charlie, who was hanging back while the other four women went forward. The ex-militia soldier who had recognized him stood nearby, and Bass grabbed his attention.

"What's going on, what do they mean by processing?" He asked in a low voice.

"Every seventy-two hours, they empty out the cells to stop over crowding. Processing is just that; depending on their crime, some prisoners get sent to a firing squad, some get farmed out to labor camps, some get taken away for interrogation and then end up back in here until the next round of processing," the soldier answered, though he didn't look back at Bass as he talked.

"How do you know all that?" Bass asked as the cell door opened and the men started shuffling forward, pausing at the front to have their wrists flex-cuffed.

"I was one of them. A Patriot. They sent my brother to one of those reconditioning camps, and when he came home, he wasn't exactly my brother any longer. Tell you the truth, he scared the hell out of me. So when they told me I'd be leaving with the next intake, I ran. Obviously I didn't get very far."

Okay, none of that sounded good, and it put a serious hitch in his plan to wait for Miles to return.

"What will happen to you?" he asked the soldier as they got closer to the front.

"They'll either send me off to the camp with an armed escort to make sure I don't try to make a run for it again, or they'll just have me executed. Either way, I'm screwed."

"What's your name?"

This time, the guy did glance back at him. "Chris Sullivan."

"Well, Sullivan, if you follow my lead and do what I tell you, I can give you another chance at escaping."

Sullivan nodded, but didn't reply as they reached where the Patriot guards were waiting to cuff them. He wasn't helping the guy out of the kindness of his heart. The fact was, the more of these people who ran, and the more chaos that created, the better his chances of slipping off with Charlie were.

Bass cast a critical glance over the guards, cataloging weapons and looking for any holes in their security. As he joined the other waiting prisoners, surrounded by the half dozen guards, Bass went to stand next to Charlie. She shot him a quick look and a small smile.

"We can't wait for Miles, if we go through this processing, we'll probably get split up. If I see an opening, I'm going to take it, so be ready," he said in a low voice.

She gave a single, barely perceptible nod as the guards herded them from the room. They were led back through several check points, to a holding area of sorts. As the first prisoner got led off for processing, Bass realized it was now or never.

He shifted sideways and bumped himself into the angry woman from earlier.

"Hey, keep your hands to yourself, you crazy bitch!" He yelled to gain the attention of the guards.

Just as he'd hoped, the woman turned on him with murder in her gaze.

He could have taken her down in half a second flat, but let her beat on him, getting in a few half-hearted shoves, until the guards finally got their asses over to pull them apart.

Bass let himself get pulled back, and while the soldier holding him was distracted, slipped the guy's knife out of its sheath. The guard shoved him to one side of the crowd, while another pulled the woman to the opposite side, keeping them well apart.

Once everything had settled down, he caught Charlie's eye and nodded her over. As she stopped next to him, he flashed the knife, and she immediately held her hands up so he could slice the cuffs.

She took the blade from him, before returning the gesture. Sullivan appeared at his side, and after Bass sent Charlie a quick nod, she cut his wrists free too.

One of the women nearby saw what they were doing, and shifted closer, holding out her own wrists. Charlie cut her cuffs too, and then freed two others, before Bass snatched the knife off her.

"That's enough, or they'll notice something is up."

She glanced at the prisoners who hadn't been lucky enough to get freed, but nodded. Bass altered his grip on the knife and stalked forward a few steps through the crowd. He paused, waiting for the right moment. The double doors opened, and that was all he needed.

Bass rushed the soldier who was just stepping into the room, dropping his body right in the doorway to stop the doors from swinging shut again. After that, chaos erupted. The prisoners attacked, both the ones who were still cuffed and the ones who'd been freed, going for the guards and creating the confusion he'd been hoping for. As Patriots dropped, Bass armed himself with more and more weapons, Charlie mirroring his movements.

He grabbed her arm, and motioned to Sullivan, as some of the other prisoners struggled against the few soldiers left standing.

"Let's go, before they send reinforcements."

Charlie nodded, her grip steady on the gun she'd acquired from one of the soldiers. They stepped over the body of the first soldier he'd taken down, and headed down the long hallway. A few of the other prisoners followed them, making a decent sized group, as they blasted their way through the last couple of security checkpoints, before making it to the street. Once outside, the group split off in all different directions.

Sullivan followed him and Charlie as they ran a block, before ducking down an alleyway. Bass paused, concealing what weapons he could and discarding the rest. Walking around town armed to the teeth was just asking for attention.

"Thanks for helping me out of there." Sullivan said, holding out his hand.

Bass returned the handshake. "No problem, but I didn't do it for you."

Sullivan shot a considering glance at Charlie, before sending Bass a quick salute. "Well, no offense General Monroe, but I think my chances of getting out of this town in one piece will be better without you."

Bass nodded, no use getting offended when it was more than likely true.

"Good luck, Sullivan."

"Same to you, General." Sullivan headed back down the alleyway at a jog, disappearing out into the street a moment later.

"Now what?" Charlie asked, setting down the rifle she'd been carrying.

"Now, we're going to find Miles, and hopefully walk out of this town right under those bastard Patriot's noses."


	9. Chapter 9

Charlie trailed Bass out of the alleyway, wishing she could have kept that rifle. She'd also pilfered a handgun and two knives. However, since they were walking around in a town full of Patriots, whose government apparently wanted her for some unknown reason, she pretty much felt naked and exposed without a small army's worth of weapons.

Out on the street, they hurried farther away from the town lockup, the commotion coming from that direction making the back of her neck crawl with apprehension. She practically held her breath until they'd made it several blocks, and managed to avoid most of the soldiers they'd seen.

"So, how are we going to find Miles?" she asked as they stopped outside a bakery.

"I have no idea." Bass murmured in return. "He could be anywhere, and unfortunately, we won't be getting through the gates unless it looks like we're being escorted by a Patriot soldier."

Bass had his gaze focused down the block, and she turned to see if she could catch a glimpse of what had his attention.

A group of four soldiers was fanned out along the street, quite obviously searching for someone, or a lot of someone's, considering how many prisoners had escaped.

"Looks like they've organized search parties," she commented.

Bass took her arm. "Come on, let's go this way."

They started off in the opposite direction to the soldiers, walking fast, but hopefully not quick enough to attract attention. However, as they reached the middle of the next block, another group of four soldiers were coming from the opposite direction, leaving them nowhere to go.

Bass swore under his breath and tugged her back a few steps before stopping.

"What are we going to do?" She closed her fist around the handle of the knife at her belt.

Bass reached out to cover her hand. "Well for one thing, we're not going to fight our way out since there's too many of them, that'll just get us caught."

"What then?" she snapped, the tension making her temper short.

Bass shot her a quick smile, though his eyes remained serious. "Just relax, Charlie. The soldiers probably assumed that all the prisoners ran off separately, they don't know that we're working together."

"So?"

"So they're not looking for a couple together. We're going to stand here and let them walk right past us."

She shot a quick look down the block, where the soldiers were closing in.

"That's stupid. What if they recognize one of us?"

He shook his head. "We won't let them get a clear look at our faces."

She glared at him. "And how are we going to do that? If we stand here with out heads down, it's going to look a bit suspicious, don't you think?"

"Charlie, trust me." His lips lifted in a half-grin as he repeated the words he'd said to her a few weeks ago when he'd been trying to convince her to take him to Miles, and she got the distinct sense he was up to something she probably wouldn't be impressed about.

He put a hand on her hip, shocking the breath right out of her, and then urged her back, until she bumped into a wall behind her. But he didn't stop coming, he stepped into her until he was pressed up against her, from thigh to chest.

His bandaged arm came up to brace lightly against the wall next to her head, and then he lowered his face until their mouths were less than a breath apart.

"Now you're going to relax, and we're going to stand here, just like this, until those soldiers have walked right passed us," he murmured in a low voice.

She couldn't get in a full breath, couldn't even get her muscles to move enough to nod an agreement. Her heart pounded against the inside of her chest, and she pressed back into the wall, trying to put a bit of distance between them so that maybe she could get her brain in working order again. Except Bass just set himself more firmly against her, making sure there was absolutely nothing between them except the clothes they were wearing.

Charlie clenched her teeth and flattened her palms against the wall. If she touched him— If she touched him, she didn't know what would happen, so it seemed like a smart idea to keep her hands to herself.

She glanced to the side, trying to gauge how far away the soldiers were to distract herself, but Bass moved his hold from her hip to reach up and lay his hand over her cheek, his thumb along her jaw.

"Don't look at them, focus on me."

She swallowed and returned her attention to him.

Bass tilted his head a little, and for half a second, she actually thought he was going to do it, close the last remaining breath between them and catch her mouth under his. But he simply continued watching her, leaning so close, she could see every nuance in the clear blue-gray color of his eyes.

"Bass, this is crazy." Her words came out sounding breathless, nothing like her own voice.

"Maybe, but it's the only play we've got," he murmured in return.

Charlie snatched in a short breath and closed her eyes. It would just be easier if she didn't have to see him. Feeling him, _all_ of him, every solid inch of his body pressing into her, was bad enough. Actually, maybe closing her eyes wasn't such a great idea after all, because now she had nothing to concentrate on except her pounding heart and the flexing of his muscles as he shifted slightly against her.

She snapped her eyes open again, to find an amused expression on his face.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" A distant sense of incredulous anger rose up within her.

"You're not?" The playful grin he sent her wasn't an expression she'd ever seen him use, and for the first time she got a glimpse of the lighthearted womanizer he'd apparently been before the blackout.

"We're going to have words about this later." Unfortunately, her threat lacked any real menace, and she could see it hadn't worried him in the least.

Bass cleared his throat, before cutting a quick look to the side. After a long moment, she felt him relaxing, his body loosening up. "I think we're clear."

He stepped back from her, and Charlie collapsed into the wall, letting it take her weight for a moment since her legs had turned to jelly. She sucked in a ragged breath, relieved that Bass was too busy scanning the street to notice her mini-meltdown. The man was becoming dangerous to her equilibrium. He had her so far off kilter, she didn't know which way was up.

"Come on; let's head toward the gates, maybe we'll find Miles on the way."

He held a hand out for her, but she sent him a glare that she hoped said _get lost_, before brushing by him.

"Charlie?"

She stopped, glancing back over her shoulder at him.

"The gate is that way." He gestured back in the other direction, and she could all but see him laughing at her.

"Well then, lead the way."

He nodded and took the lead, and for the moment, she trailed a step behind him. The past week had been intense; from Bass falling through that roof, to finding out Miles was her father and then getting nabbed by Patriots. Yet every step of the way, Bass had been there, his unspoken support holding her up. She wanted to believe their continued companionship in these highly emotional situations was the only reason she was having so many confusing ideas about him.

Except, what exactly was confusing about those thoughts? It had become plainly apparent that she wanted Sebastian Monroe, but right now, she couldn't reconcile that with what she knew to be right.

Miles would kill Bass if he found out there was even the tiniest connection between them. And her mom… she couldn't even begin to imagine how her mom would take that news.

No, this thing with her and Bass, it wasn't fair on anyone.

And it would bring them nothing but ruin.

* * *

_A/N - More thanks for all the awesome reviews, plus follows and favorites I've continued getting. When I decided that I was going to try writing fanfiction, I wasn't sure how many Charloe fans were out there, and never expected to find so much enthusiasm and encouragement. _

_The new episode on TV the other night was so great, I love the new sides of Bass we've been seeing this season, and think his character will only get better, especially now that his son is in the picture (who, let's face it, was a chip off the old block and also a little bit awesome). Hopefully not too many more episodes will go by before the gang all gets back together, so at least we've got the possibility of some Charloe moments. :)_

_As always, a new update coming soon, and happy reading everyone!_

_~x LizAna_


	10. Chapter 10

They were getting closer to the town gates, but without Miles in his Patriot uniform to escort them through, they were trapped and at risk of the search parties finding them.

Bass slowed as the gate came into view, and then cursed under his breath. The guards on the gate had been tripled, and it looked like every single person leaving the town was being questioned and searched.

"Well, that's not good," he muttered, easing back a step.

"What is it?" Charlie asked, stopping beside him.

"They've beefed up gate security. It's probably not surprising, but it just made it that much harder for us to walk out of here."

"Bass." Charlie latched a hand onto his arm, her voice tight.

"What's wrong?" He glanced down to find an apprehensive expression on her face.

She nodded her head. "Jason Neville."

"Tom Neville's kid? God damn it." Bass followed her line of sight and sure enough, Jason stood less than a dozen steps from them, wearing a Patriot uniform, of all damn things.

Bass pulled Charlie back a step, but even as he did, it was too late. Jason had turned to directly face them, and standing in the middle of the street like they were, there was no where to hide.

Jason's gaze landed on them and he froze for a long moment. But then in a blink, he'd drawn his gun.

"Stop right there!" Jason yelled. Before Bass could even make a decision about whether to run or fight, a few other soldiers standing nearby noticed what was going on and closed in, pulling out their own weapons.

Jason walked closer to them, his aim steady on the middle of Bass' chest.

"Turn around," he demanded as he pulled out a pair of cuffs.

Bass sighed. And they'd been so close to getting out of this damned town. He slowly started to turn, but apparently he wasn't doing it fast enough for Captain America here, because Jason grabbed his shoulder and shoved him around.

"Jason, what's going on? Are you really with the _Patriots_ now?" Charlie asked quietly as Jason secured Bass' wrists.

He stepped sideways and shot Charlie a hard look. "Turn around."

"Jason—"

Jason grabbed Charlie's arm in a rough grip. "I said turn around."

Bass clenched his jaw, a stirring of dark anger getting the better of him. Jason had better not take that forceful treatment of Charlie any farther, otherwise he'd been giving the kid a piece of his mind with his fist.

Once they were both cuffed, Jason motioned over a couple of other soldiers. They were searched and stripped of the weapons they'd collected.

"I need an escort for these two; they're high risk for escape. Let's go," Jason said to the other Patriots.

A soldier took Bass' arm, and another grabbed Charlie, before falling into step behind Jason as he led them back through town.

"I thought Jason was sweet on you, Tom Neville seemed to think so," Bass murmured to Charlie as they walked.

She cut him a sideways glare. "How did you know that, and what's it got to do with anything?"

He sent her a cynical smile. "You'd be surprised what I know about you, Charlie."

"Because that's not creepy at all," she muttered. "It kind of didn't end well. And why bring it up now?"

"Maybe you can use it to your advantage, convince him to help us." A tight, uncomfortable feeling sliced through his midsection. All right, maybe even he didn't like the idea of Charlie playing that game, but they had seriously limited options here.

The look Charlie sent him spoke volumes. "I'm not going to whore myself—"

"I didn't mean it like that." He glanced at the soldiers escorting them, but they weren't paying him or Charlie any attention. "I just meant play to his emotions."

Her lips pressed into a thin line, her expression unimpressed. "I'll think about it."

Jason had led them all the way back to the town lock up, where a stream of activity was still happening. Except instead of taking them back inside, he turned in the opposite direction, going into the building across the street.

Inside seemed to be some sort of headquarters for senior officers. Jason led them down a hallway, before stopping to knock on a door. A moment later, he pushed it open and then motioned them inside.

Bass walked in ahead of Charlie, but his steps slowed, and then came to stop as he saw who was sitting behind the desk.

"You have got to be kidding me."

God damn Tom Neville. He shouldn't have been surprised, not after seeing Jason. But less than a year had gone by since Tom had been under his own command, and the guy already held a senior position with the Patriots?

"My, my… Sebastian Monroe, as I live and breath. I knew it must have been too good to be true when I heard you'd been executed by lethal injection. How's your boyfriend, Miles? You two worked out your issues yet, or are you still doing a poor job of covering up all that sexual tension by beating on one another?"

Bass clenched his jaw, anger lighting up within him. That snide remark didn't deserve an answer, but he absolutely hated that Neville boiled down everything he felt for Miles as his brother, into something so crude and base.

Neville slowly pushed to his feet and then walked around the desk. "And Charlotte Matheson, the proverbial pain in my ass. I've been looking for you, little lady."

"You're behind those wanted posters?" Bass demanded.

Neville shrugged and leaned back against the desk. "Technically, Commander Allenford commissioned them. As his head security adviser, I see a lot of reports cross my desk. And when I saw one from Horn concerning Rachel Matheson and Aaron Pittman... well, I knew the way I wanted to go about solving that little dilemma. I strongly advised Commander Allenford that it would be in his best interest to track down every Matheson he could get his hands on, starting with the girl. I never expected to catch myself the ex-president of the Monroe Republic along the way."

"Well then, I guess it's your lucky day, Tom. Now what exactly are you planning to do with Charlie?" Bass shifted a little closer to her, needing to protect Charlie from the backstabbing, two-faced bastard he'd once called a friend.

Neville's smile was almost predatory. "Why, I'm taking a leaf out of your playbook, General. Hold on to the kid to draw Miles and Rachel in. Having you here just made that a whole lot easier."

"And how do you figure that?"

"Simple, I'm going to have you escorted outside the town gates, and then you're going to go find Rachel and Miles, and tell them to hand themselves over to me. And if you convince that butter-boy, Pittman, to come with them, you get bonus points."

Bass eyed Neville critically. "What's your angle, here Tom? We both know these sons of bitches are responsible for nuking Philly and Atlanta, how is it that you're now working for them?"

Neville's pseudo-friendly expression vanished. "What I'm doing here is none of your business, Monroe. All you need to know is that if I don't see Miles, Rachel, and butter-boy standing outside the town gates and ready to surrender by tomorrow morning, I will hurt the girl. And let me tell you, I'll enjoy every second of it."

The fury he'd been holding onto started cracking his calm façade. Neville wanted to get a rise out of him, that was the way the manipulative bastard had always worked.

"You know," Neville said thoughtfully, stepping closer. "I might just hurt her a bit anyway, just to pass the time, get me some pay back for all the times the bitch messed with my plans."

The rage snapped free, and Bass lunged a step forward, but Jason grabbed on, pulling him back and stopping him from getting anywhere near Tom.

"You don't touch her, got it? Or I swear to god, no matter how long it takes me, I will hunt you down and put a bullet in your brain."

Neville laughed, clearly enjoying himself.

"Why so touchy, Monroe? Not so long ago, you threatened to kill the girl yourself." He glanced at Charlie, his gaze considering, before returning his attention to Bass. "Oh, I see. It's not Miles you want to bang any more, it's his pretentious bitch of niece. With that pouty mouth and that plump rack of hers, yeah, you want all that, if you haven't had it already. That's twisted, Monroe, even for you."

"You shut your god damn mouth, Neville."

Charlie shifted next to him, but he couldn't look down at her, every fiber of his being was enraged and needing to slice Neville's throat, ear to ear.

Neville flicked him a bored grin. "So predictable, Monroe, I can play you like a harp. Jason?"

Neville's kid stepped forward. "Yes sir?"

"Take the girl back to the lock up and have General Monroe escorted out of the gates. Make sure Monroe gets the right message, are we clear?"

Jason stared at him for a long, silent moment, before nodding his head. "Yes, sir."

Bass didn't take his eyes off Neville as several soldiers came back into the room.

"Good day, General." Tom sent him a mocking salute, before a couple of soldiers grabbed onto him, shoving him out of the room after Charlie.

Damn it, had he managed to find Charlie only to lose her again? He couldn't let them get separated, and he definitely couldn't let the soldiers throw him outside the town gates, putting them right back to square one.

His mind ran through scenarios, discarding each idea as it came to him. There were too many soldiers, plus he and Charlie were both cuffed again. Desperation clawed into him as he tried to come up with a fast solution to their bad situation.

Outside, the soldiers led him and Charlie into the middle of the street. The soldier holding Charlie shoved her and she stumbled to her knees.

"Damn it, leave her alone!" He yanked against the two bastards holding him, but it got him exactly nowhere. Glancing over at Jason, he saw the kid had a hard expression on his face, yet a glint of something else, almost like regret, flashed in his gaze as he nodded and then looked away from Charlie.

Charlie had gotten to her knees, but the soldier who'd shoved her stepped forward and slapped her, hard enough to put her down again.

Furious desperation blazed through Bass, and he had only one card to play in order to stop this. "Damn it, Jason, you've defied your father before, are you really going to stand here and let them beat her up?"

Jason didn't answer, but his expression closed up as he crossed his arms, and he avoided looking at them all.

Charlie rolled on the ground, but before the soldier who'd hit her could get any closer, she lashed out with her legs. The guy stumbled, and while he was distracted, she scrambled to her feet.

The patriot straightened, an enraged expression on his face. He slung around the rifle he'd had strapped over his shoulder, and brought the muzzle up to aim at Charlie.

Bass' heart flat-lined, even as Charlie froze. They wouldn't, Neville had said he'd keep Charlie alive—

A shot rang out, followed by two more in quick succession. Charlie jerked back, her legs giving out as she went down to her knees. Three patches of red bloomed on her chest, and everything seemed to stop.

Bass couldn't breathe as Charlie's eyes dropped closed and she collapsed back in a heap.

"_No!_" He jerked forward so hard, the two soldiers holding on to him lost their grip. Bass stumbled, but kept going, desperate to reach her. If there was even a chance those bullets hadn't killed her instantly, he had to stop the bleeding, had to help her.

But before he could reach her, the Patriots had grabbed him again, dragging him back.

"No, let me go!" He fought with every pound of his heart, but couldn't wrench himself free. "_Charlie!_"

"Dump him outside the town gates," Jason said in a hollow voice, before walking to stand over Charlie. He didn't move to help her, just stared down at her lifeless form.

* * *

The soldiers marched him beyond the town gates and then un-cuffed his wrists, before giving him one final parting shove. Bass went down to his knees in the dust of the road, unable to find the energy to hold himself up. He'd used the last of it trying to get to Charlie in those final few moments.

He'd been numb while the Patriots had dragged him out of town. Except it didn't last, and the pain came, tearing right through his chest like someone cracking his ribs one by one.

His throat closed over and he dropped his chin to his chest, hardly able to drag a breath into his aching lungs. He braced a hand against his forehead as his eyes started stinging, and there was nothing he could do to stop the tide as moisture tracked down his face.

"Bass?"

He dragged a hand over his face, taking away some of the wetness, as he glanced up. Miles stood a few steps away from him, his posture tight.

"What are you doing out here, and where's Charlie?"

The sound of her name almost undid him, and he gulped a hard breath. Miles stalked closer, his expression shaken. "Bass, _where the hell is Charlie_?"

"They killed her, Miles. They killed our girl." He shook his head, and glanced back at the town, his swimming vision making everything waver.

Miles dropped down in front of him. "No. I don't believe you."

"They did it right in front of me. Three shots to the chest from an M16. Even if the bullets didn't happen to shred her heart and lungs, no one tried to help her, they just left her there, lying in the street." His chest tightened up with the need to let the pressure out, but he swallowed it down. He couldn't lose it now, not until he'd made sure Tom, Jason, and every single Patriot in that town had paid in rivers of blood.

"God, no, not Charlie," Miles whispered.

Miles shuddered, and Bass could see his brother going apart. He reached forward, wrapping his arms around Miles' shoulders for a long moment, giving them both a chance to pull themselves together enough to go on.

"Who?" Miles demanded as he leaned back, still gripping Bass' shirt at the shoulder.

"Tom Neville was the one who put out the wanted posters. It was just some random soldier who shot her, but Jason Neville stood by and watched it happen."

A gleam of furious wrath burned in Miles' dark gaze. "I should have killed those sons of bitches when I had the chance."

Miles released his grip, and then helped Bass to his feet. Without a word, Miles started stalking away from the town.

Bass wiped his forearm across his face and sniffed, shutting down the last of his emotion. "Miles, where are you going?"

"I'm going to tell Rachel our daughter is dead," Miles threw over his shoulder. "And then I'm coming back here to raze this town to the ground."


	11. Chapter 11

_A/N - As a total Charloe fan, I just have to say that OF COURSE I didn't kill Charlie... but I had a lot of you worried! :D _

_I just wanted to screw around with Bass, because let's face it, you don't know what you've got until its gone. _

_Happy reading :)_

_~x LizAna_

* * *

Charlie shifted as awareness crept back, bringing with it a burning pain in her chest every time she inhaled. What the hell had—

Memory flooded back, and she snapped her eyes open, hand clamping over her chest. Oh god, she'd been shot, they'd killed— No, they hadn't killed her. Somehow she was alive. How had she survived getting shot in the chest?

She raised her head and looked down, patting her torso, but not finding even a single bandage. How long had she been out of it for?

Someone moved in her peripheral vision, and she glanced over to find Jason sitting next to her. She was in a hospital room, and déjà vu washed over her, since last time she'd been anywhere near a hospital bed, Jason had been the one laid out in it.

A lot had happened since then, and clearly she couldn't trust Jason any longer.

"What happened?" Her voice came out hoarse, and Jason offered her a glass of water. She took it, but didn't bother thanking him.

"You got knocked out when you took three paintballs to the chest at close range."

She pushed herself up to sit, grimacing at the aching pain in her chest. "What the hell is a paintball?"

Jason clasped his hands between his knees and leaned forward a little. "The US government uses them for training exercises, before giving us real guns. The weapons all look real, but they don't shoot bullets, they shoot little balls of paint."

She took a sip of water, before putting the glass aside and glaring at him. "And what was the point of shooting me with a fake gun?"

But even as she asked the question, the answer spun through her mind.

"To make my family think I'm dead," she said in growing horror, before Jason could reply.

Jason nodded grimly. "That was about the sum of it, yeah."

"Oh god, Bass," she whispered. He'd been standing right there. He'd watched the whole thing. And now he must think—

"Bass?" Jason repeated, making a face. "You mean Monroe? Don't tell me that my father was right about the two of you."

She sent him a quelling glare. "What happened after I was knocked out?"

"I had Monroe thrown outside the town gates, like my father ordered."

Anger swept through her, and ignoring the pain in her chest, she shuffled to the edge of the bed to swing her legs off the edge.

"What does your father think is going to happen if Miles and my mom think I'm dead?" she demanded.

Jason shook his head. "I don't know what he's hoping to get out of this, but I've got a few ideas."

"And you just went along with it, not even knowing why he was doing it? The Jason I knew would never have followed Tom Neville's orders so blindly."

Jason glanced away from her, a flash of anger passing over his face. "Yeah, well that Jason is dead."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He shook his head, expression stubborn. "Nothing. Where do you think you're going?"

She pushed up from the bed, and shrugged sideways when Jason tried to grab her arm. "I'm not going to sit here while my family thinks I'm dead. I don't expect you to help me escape, but if I ever meant anything to you, please, don't stand in my way."

Some kind of emotion flashed in Jason's gaze, but then it disappeared again, leaving her wondering if she'd imagined it. "Sorry, Charlie, I can't let you go."

"What is wrong with you?" She shoved both hands into his shoulders with frustration, but it was like hitting a brick wall. He'd gotten harder, both physically and mentally, since last time she'd seen him.

Jason caught her wrists and yanked her closer for a moment. "You've got no idea what I've been through in the last six months, Charlie."

"So tell me, but whatever it is couldn't be bad enough that you'd trust your father with anything."

Jason roughly let her go, and then paced a few steps away from her. His shoulders were tight, and he seemed to be fighting some inner battle with himself. She thought he wasn't going to say anything else to her, but finally he blew out an uneven breath and then turned to look back at her.

"After the nukes fell, my father and I spent months searching refugee camps for my mother, though since their house was right in the middle of Atlanta, we both knew chances were that she'd been vaporized by the bomb."

Charlie sat back heavily against the side of the bed. While Jason might have hated his father, she'd always known he loved his mother deeply. "I'm sorry, Jason."

He shook his head. "Finally, we gave up, and my father's focused changed. I don't know why I stuck around, probably because he was the only family I had left, my last connection to mom. But he became obsessed with making those responsible for my mother's death pay."

"So he joined up with their cause? Sorry, but that doesn't make—"

"To get as high as he could in their ranks and then destroy them from the inside out."

"Right, that sounds more like Tom Neville," she muttered.

"It was all going along fine, until my father decided he'd do anything to get the bastards to trust him, including screw me over. I shouldn't have been surprised, but it still—" He swallowed, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. "It still hurt, to watch him sell me out for what basically amounted to a promotion. He didn't even bother asking what they were going to do with me."

Jason's face hardened, and he resumed pacing, his entire body all but humming with tension.

"What did they do with you, Jason?" She asked quietly, not sure if she wanted to hear the answer.

"Have you heard of the government's reconditioning camps?"

She shook her head. "I've heard them mentioned, but nothing more."

"Then its better if that's all you ever know about them. It was a kind of hell I can't even—" He clenched his fists, and then seemed to force himself to relax. "When my father eventually did find out where they'd sent me, I guess turning his only son into some kind of monster was a line even he wasn't willing to cross. He came and got me out, before I was beyond saving. I know you probably can't understand, Charlie, but I owe him for that."

"I can understand, to a point," she conceded.

"Anyway, a few weeks ago, we found out my mom had survived, and my father's objectives changed yet again."

"So what does he want now, if not to destroy them?"

Now Jason's expression changed into something filled with regret, and maybe a hint of sadness. "I don't know, and truthfully, a part of me doesn't want to know."

She moved over to him, gently closing her hand around his forearm. "Jason, I know you feel like you owe your father for saving you, but if it hadn't been for him, you wouldn't have even been sent there in the first place. Not to mention, you know that whatever your father has in mind, it won't be good for anyone but Tom Neville. How do you know he won't screw you over again next week, just because it'll get him closer to whatever it is he wants?"

Jason clenched his jaw and glanced away from her, but she could see that she was starting to get through to him.

"Please, Jason, you trusted me once, you used to look out for me, even when I didn't want you to. Now, I need you to help me again. And you've got to let me help you in return. We have to leave this place."

He jerked out of her grip. "You're just saying that because you want me to help you escape."

She nodded. "Partly, yes, but I mean it, Jason. You'll only get hurt again if you keep blindly following along behind your father."

Jason stared at her for a long moment, but before he could say anything, a low boom sounded, followed by shouts.

The two of them hurried over to the window, where a plume of black smoke was puffing up into the sky.

"What's over there?" She asked, watching as people started running back and forth.

"The town gates," Jason replied with a grim tone.

And she knew without a doubt who was behind that destruction. "It's my family. Jason, we've got to get to them before they get themselves killed over some misguided idea of revenge."

Jason scrubbed a hand over his hair, looking torn. But then he went over to the chair he'd been sitting on and scooped up her jacket. "Come on then, we might as well take advantage of the confusion while we can. How are we going to find them?"

The answer came to her straight away, because it was more than obvious. "If they think you and your father were responsible for killing me, then they'll be coming for both of you."

Jason sent her a guarded look. "That's comforting."

She took her jacket from him and shrugged into it, wincing a little at her sore chest. "But that makes it easy. Where is your father right now? Because wherever he is, that's where Miles, Bass, and my mom will be heading."


	12. Chapter 12

Bass ducked through the hole Miles had cut in the fence, glancing up and down the deserted alleyway while Rachel climbed through behind him.

The three chemical bombs Rachel had managed to put together had worked as a nice distraction — Miles had simply dropped one bag at the gate, and the others a little way into town. The contents had done the rest a few moments after he'd walked off.

While everyone was worried about what was going on at the gates, Bass and Rachel had been able to sneak in the back.

"Now what?" Rachel asked as she straightened.

Miles tossed Bass a gun. "Now we get our hands on as many weapons as we can between here and Tom Neville's office."

The three of them walked to the end of the alleyway, Miles and Bass keeping Rachel in the middle.

Bass glanced at Rachel, checking for any cracks in her façade. She hadn't really reacted after Miles had told her the news about Charlie, almost as if part of her had been expecting it. She'd gone quite, and then shut herself in what had once been an old staff room in the roadhouse they'd met up in.

Miles had paced along the front of the dusty kitchen counter, while Bass had entertained himself with how many different ways he could kill Tom and Jason Neville.

After a little while - a lot sooner than Bass had expected - Rachel had emerged again, her expression blank and detached. She'd been carrying a couple of water bottles with different chemicals mixed into them and calmly explained that eventually both chemicals would eat through the plastic of the water bottles, and when they mixed, they'd make a tidy explosion. She'd told them she wanted to walk right into town and shove them down Tom Neville's throat, but Miles had managed to convince her to use them as a distraction instead.

She still had that kind of disconnected expression on her face and part of him was worried she was going to lose it at a critical time, putting their objective of vengeance in jeopardy. But he'd known, as well as Miles did, there wouldn't have been any point in asking her to stay behind, nor did they have any right to.

Well, if she cracked under pressure, it would have to be Miles that took care of her. Right now, the only thing keeping Bass going was the aim of spilling Neville blood — Tom or Jason, or hopefully both. He couldn't think beyond that, couldn't consider what he would do once he'd taken his pain out on the pair, and had to face the prospect of waking up tomorrow in a world where Charlie didn't exist.

Overwhelming emotion started clamping down on him again, but he shoved it away with long years of practice, forcing his mind to fall blank of everything but the mission at hand. He'd survived that way once before, he could do it again.

At the end of the alleyway, people were rushing back and forth. Miles reached out and snagged a passing soldier, slitting his throat and then dragging the body back into the alleyway. He took the guy's M16 and passed it off to Rachel, before pocketing a few spare clips of ammo.

They left the alleyway and in the confusion, it was easy to take out most of the soldiers they came across without attracting too much attention. It seemed everyone was either focused on fighting the fires that had ignited from the blast, or were too busy trying to save their own asses.

They made their way deeper into town, until they got to the building where Jason had brought him and Charlie earlier. Before, the place had been a hive of activity, but as they passed through the front doors, weapons ready for trouble, the halls and offices were silent and empty.

"Where is everyone?" Bass muttered as they took the passageway toward Neville's office.

"Looks like they left." Miles had lowered his gun, and banged open a few doors. "If this building was full of high-ranking officers, they probably started evacuating to a more secure location as soon as the first explosion went off."

Bass clenched his jaw and pushed into the room Neville had been using earlier.

"_God damn it_." Frustration boiled up and he swung his rifle around, smashing a candelabra of the desk.

Not surprisingly, the office was empty, but a small part of him had hoped that Neville hadn't quite got around to leaving yet, or had been sitting there, waiting for the confrontation. After all, Tom had wanted Rachel and Miles; Bass had done his part in bringing them just like the a-hole wanted. Of course, Neville probably hadn't planned for that meeting to go down with them packing half the town's weapons.

And maybe that was the crux of the issue — Neville had planned on keeping Charlie in exchange for Rachel's cooperation. When that moron of a Patriot soldier had killed her, Tom had to have known that they'd be coming for him. It made sense that he'd fled. Neville might be a lot of things, but more than anything he was canny, he wouldn't hang around for a fight he thought he couldn't win.

"We have to find him." Bass tightened his grip on the gun and turned to where Rachel and Miles stood just inside the doorway.

"He's gone, Bass, god knows where." Miles glanced around the room, a hint of defeat in his voice.

"So what? We're just going to give up, let him go on his merry way? Neville should have been put down like the dog he is a long time ago."

"What are we supposed to do, Bass? 'Cos I sure as hell don't know. We've both known Tom Neville a long time, if he doesn't want to be found—"

"That crap's not going to fly, Miles. Not now, not after what happened." Bass brushed by him, heading out of the office and back down the hallway to the front of the building.

"Bass, where are you going?"

He reached the front steps, and avoided looking at the spot in the street where Charlie had gone down. "I'm going to grab myself a Patriot and make him tell us where all the officers went to bunk down. And if he kicks it before he tells me, I'll grab another, and then another, until someone gives me what I need."

He heard Miles sigh, but didn't care what his buddy was thinking right now. Maybe that he was slipping back into General Monroe mode too easily? Screw that, and screw Miles for acting all judgmental. It should have been Miles wanting to cut the Patriots into little strips until one of them gave up Neville. Because this was _Charlie_ they were talking about here. Hell, Miles might have only found out less than a week ago that she was really his kid, but either way she'd still been family. And no one messed with his family, not if they wanted to keep breathing.


	13. Chapter 13

Several buildings had caught fire from the explosions, and the streets were chaotic as Charlie followed Jason out of the hospital. It was hard to tell which people were simply trying to escape the town, and which people were trying to help put out the fires. No one spared her or Jason a glance as they started making their way back to the middle of town. The disarray had certainly worked in their favor, and was no doubt working for Miles, Bass and her mom as well.

She caught up to Jason, stepping close to him so they didn't get separated in the rushing crowds of people and soldiers. "Jason, if they've got your dad—"

"They won't have him." Jason replied, no hint of doubt in his voice. "As soon as that first explosion went off, he and all the other high ranking personnel would have evacuated to the bunker."

"Where's that?"

Jason shot her a quick look, one that told her he wasn't willing to discuss that particular topic.

"When we find your family, can you please try to make sure they don't kill me? I can't imagine they're going to be all that happy to see me."

"I'm sure they'll be too busy asking me how I'm not dead to worry about you."

He didn't look all that confident in her words, but didn't slow as they hurried toward the town square.

The made it to the office building where they'd confronted Tom Neville earlier, and as they walked in the front doors, it seemed to be completely deserted.

"Now what?" She asked, turning to look at Jason.

He shrugged. "I figured Monroe would bring them to the last place he'd seen my dad. If they haven't been here yet, they soon will be."

She walked a few steps farther into the building. "And what if they've already been and gone, how are we going to find them?"

Jason shook his head. "Sorry, Charlie, this is all I've got."

She sighed, pushing her hair out of her face. This was a disaster, no two ways about it. If Miles, or her mom, or Bass got hurt before she could find them, she'd never get over it. What must they be going through their heads right now, thinking that she was dead? She wouldn't have wished that pain on her worst enemy, not after losing Danny and knowing exactly how it could shred a heart to ragged pieces.

A yell echoed from somewhere deeper in the building and she looked at Jason, who was staring back at her with a questioning expression. He'd heard the shout as well.

He held a finger up to his lips and drew his sidearm, before motioning down the hallway. Charlie clenched her fists as she fell into step behind Jason. Being weaponless and walking into an unknown situation was far from ideal, but there was nothing she could do about it right now.

Another yell sounded, one of pain, closer now as they crept down the hallway. Jason reached the door of the office he'd brought her to earlier when they'd seen his father, and carefully pushed the door in, keeping his gun up.

He took one step, but then someone reached out and grabbed the front of his shirt, yanking him out of sight.

The hollow thump of someone hitting the floor echoed back to her, and she blew out a short breath. No weapons, and she was about to throw herself in there to save Jason.

Without giving it another thought, and sure she was about to die, Charlie lunged through the door, but came up short.

Jason lay on the floor, hands out, his weapon in Miles' grip. Bass stood over a bloodied patriot soldier tied to a chair, but he had a gun pointed at Jason as well. Her mom stood off to the side, arms crossed and a distant, closed expression on her face.

"Wait! Don't shoot him!" Charlie leaped forward, putting herself between Jason and the two guns.

Absolute silence fell over the room and everyone was staring at her.

Miles' gun slowly lowered, dropping to aim at the floor.

"Charlie?" His voice wobbled over the word, his expression landing somewhere between shocked and confused. "We thought—"

"Oh, my god," her mom whispered, before rushing over and catching her in a tight hug. A moment went by, before Miles stepped forward and closed his arms around both of them, lowering his head against her hair.

Charlie grimaced; the firm embrace from both of them aching through her sore chest. But she let them have their moment, no doubt they needed a second to get their heads around the fact that she wasn't actually dead.

She glanced up, over her mom's shoulder, and caught Bass looking at her. Deep shadows darkened his blue gaze, but a fire burned in the depths of his eyes as he stared at her. Yet his expression remained hard, closed and edged in anger. As he turned to look down at Jason, who was climbing up from the floor, Bass' expression turned downright furious. He stalked forward to grab Jason by the shoulder and shoved the gun into the side of his head.

"You god damn son of a bitch, what the hell is this?" Bass demanded, pressing the gun harder until Jason winced.

Charlie broke free from her parents and stepped closer.

"Damn it, Monroe, I thought you'd be happy to find out Charlie was alive."

Bass shoved the gun harder. "Happy? I would have been happier if you and your snake of a father hadn't made me think she was dead in the first place. What kind of game are you playing, huh? You think it's funny to toy with people's emotions like that?"

Jason glared right back at him. "It wasn't me, it was all my dad's idea. I didn't know what he was going to do or why—"

Bass shoved him back down to the floor. "That's real convenient; blame dear old dad while he isn't here. But you stood by and let that soldier hit her, and shoot her."

Charlie stepped closer to Bass, trying to get his attention. "They were just paintballs, Bass, I'm not even hurt. Not really."

He glanced at her sideways and gave a short laugh, though the sound had a hard edge to it. "Paintballs? Well, isn't that just a kicker?"

Bass returned his attention to Jason, and his expression went cold, eerily reminiscent of the General Monroe she'd first met.

"I think it's about time we sent Tom a message, one he won't be likely to forget anytime soon." Bass' arm tensed, and a slice of cold apprehension cut through Charlie.

She reached up and grabbed his wrist. "Bass, you can't shoot him. I promised Jason that he wouldn't get hurt. He helped me escape. He brought me back to you."

For a moment, Bass didn't move, but then his gaze swept over to her. For a long moment, he stared at her, his jaw clenched. She felt his arm relax beneath her grip, and then slowly lower to his side.

"Fine, I won't shoot him today, but only because you asked me not to. Next time I see him, all bets are off."

Bass jerked himself out of her grip and then stalked over to punch the Patriot soldier into unconsciousness, before untying him from the chair. Without another word to any of them, he walked out of the room.

She stared after him for a moment, her heart skittering. She'd thought— Well, she didn't really know how she'd though Bass would react to finding out she was alive. Maybe a naive part of her had expected him to be a little bit happy, or at least seemed relieved. But apart from being pissed at Jason, he hadn't really reacted at all.

_Stupid_. Had she really started to think she meant anything to Sebastian Monroe? The guy only cared about himself, and to an extent Miles. He'd proven that time and time again. She was an idiot to think a few situations where they'd been forced into close proximity had created any kind of connection between them

Charlie bent to offer Jason a hand up. "Sorry about that."

Jason shrugged, pulling his uniform straight. "Hey, don't apologize. You stopped him from killing me, that's all I needed you to do."

They turned to where Miles and her mom were standing.

Miles was still holding his gun, though it was pointed toward the ground. Still, Charlie got the impression he was ready and willing to use it any second now.

"Don't get me wrong, Jason, I appreciate you helping Charlie out, but I never really liked you. So feel free to take it personally if I hang onto my sidearm for the time being."

Jason nodded, a hard expression on his face.

"Now, can you help get us through those gates, or am I going to have to break Charlie's promise to you?"

"I'll get you out," Jason agreed, reluctance in his voice.

Miles nodded and then gestured with the gun. "After you."


	14. Chapter 14

Charlie followed Jason, Miles and her mom back outside. Bass was leaning against the wall just outside the doors, staring broodingly out at the street, his gaze on the spot where that Patriot had shot her.

The activity in the street had lessened, the town seeming quieter. The blaze still burned through several buildings, though it looked like the soldiers had given up on trying to put the fire out.

Most people they saw were heading to the gates, and as they got nearer, the crowd was all moving in the same direction. Charlie glanced back at the blackened, burning destruction her family had wrought.

"Do you think the whole town will burn?" She asked no one in particular. Distant memories of fire truck sirens from her childhood flickered in the back of her mind.

"Not our problem," Miles returned as they neared the gates.

There were a handful of Patriots manning what was left of the structure, but they weren't checking all that carefully as the townspeople streamed through the opening.

Jason waved to one of the soldiers, who nodded back at him, but no one approached as them as Jason led them out of town. He walked with them a little way down the road, before stopping.

Bass bumped him as he walked by, throwing a lethal glare over his shoulder before he continued on.

"Yeah, screw you too, Monroe," Jason muttered, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Charlie stopped, while her mom and Miles followed Bass.

"Aren't you coming?" She asked Jason, nodding toward where her family was walking along the side of the road.

Jason shook his head. "Sorry, but I don't think that would be such a good idea since both Monroe and Miles want to fill me with bullets. Besides, I can't leave my dad."

Annoyance bloomed within her. "After everything, you're still going to go along with whatever it is he's up to?"

Jason shook his head, sending her an imploring look, wanting her to understand something she never would. "Its not for him, it's for my mom. And… I don't know, I get the feeling he's up to something really bad this time. You know for like a minute there, he tried to take over the Monroe Militia? If my father managed to get any real kind of power… I don't think I can walk off and let that happen, Charlie."

She nodded. "Thanks, Jason. And I'm sorry about what happened last time we were together, when I didn't believe you—"

He glanced away from her. "It doesn't matter now."

Except from the tone of his voice, she got the sense it did matter, a whole lot.

"Take care of yourself, Charlie." He backed up a few steps, before turning to walk back along the road toward the town gates.

Charlie jogged to catch up with the others. Miles reached up to ruffle her hair as she came along beside him.

"You're one lucky girl, you know that? Paintballs, hell, I don't know what kind of game Tom was playing with that one, but next time I cross paths with him, he won't be walking away in one piece."

She shot him a smile, as her mom squeezed her hand for a brief moment. In that second, she was grateful for the family she had surrounding her.

Her gaze was drawn to Bass, walking alone several steps ahead of them, his posture tight. Like it or not, he was part of their family too, though how he fit in, and the trouble he brought them, it didn't exactly make for smooth sailing.

They trekked back to the roadhouse, where they'd left the horses and their belongings. Bass disappeared as soon as they got there, and as Charlie went to her bag for a clean shirt, she didn't let herself dwell on the question of where Bass might have gone. He wouldn't leave them, not when he still needed Miles to tell him where his son was.

"I'm going to get some water," Charlie told Miles and her mom, who were sitting at a dusty table, talking quietly between themselves.

"Watch your back, kid. We already destroyed one town on your behalf this week."

She sent him a quick smile, before slipping out through the back of the roadhouse and heading through a scrappy patch of forest, toward the stream that cut by the edge of town.

As she got closer, she spotted Bass crouched down at the water's edge, head lowered against his hand.

Charlie stopped, getting the distinct sense that she'd just stumbled on him in a moment he didn't want anyone to be witness to. He already seemed to be in a bad enough mood, if he thought she was spying on him—

She took a careful step back, and even though she'd thought she'd stayed silent, he raised his head and glanced over his shoulder at her. His face and hair was wet, but she could have sworn she glimpsed a sheen in his blue gaze before he looked away from her again.

He pushed to his feet, keeping his back to her. "Don't leave on my account; I was just finishing up anyway."

When he turned back to her, he seemed to have gained control over himself — of course that was assuming the flash of emotion she'd seen on his face hadn't all been in her imagination.

Charlie walked forward, and then crouched to fill up her water bottle. The whole time, she felt his gaze on her, though he didn't say anything. She stood again, and turned to face him. She didn't know what to say to him, but couldn't stand the strained silence between them.

"Bass, I'm sorry about—"

"Can we not do any touchy-feely speeches? Its not like we really have that kind of relationship."

His words stabbed right through her middle, and part of her was amazed that he could hurt her so effectively. He was right; they didn't have any kind of relationship at all. The best she could say was that she didn't want to kill him any longer, and he had a grudging respect for her fighting skills. Yet for some stupid reason, she thought they'd gotten beyond that in the past week. She didn't have any way to describe what this thing between them was, but it was _something_. And it pissed her off that he was going to stand there and pretend like he wasn't just as aware of it as she was.

"Fine, whatever." She turned away from him and stripped out of her shirt, leaving her in a singlet as she bent down to dunk the paint-stained top in the stream.

She used the cool, wet material to wipe over her face, and as she dragged it down her neck, Bass grabbed her upper arm and hauled her to her feet.

"What the hell—?" She lost her grip on her wet shirt as Bass spun her toward him and clamped her up against his chest.

Now, his blue eyes were burning with too many emotions, and there was no way to pretend she couldn't see every feeling exposed in his gaze.

"I thought you were dead, Charlie. Do you know what that did to me?" His voice came out ragged, and he held her tighter against him. "You know, the night I woke up to find Miles standing in my room with a gun pointed at my head, I never thought I'd feel any worse than I did in that moment. Like someone had literally reached into my chest and ripped out my heart. But I was wrong. When I watched you fall down in that street, when I thought you'd been taken from me... That was a million times worse."

Her heart was hammering against the inside of her chest. Last time she'd been pressed up against him like this, just a few hours earlier, she'd wanted nothing except to get away from him and the confusing things he made her feel. But this time, all she wanted was to grab hold of him and maybe never let go.

"Bass—"

He pulled her even closer, and his head lowered closer. Her breath caught in the back of her throat, and decadent anticipation trickled down her spine. But then he tensed, and he half turned his face away from her, closing his eyes.

"I can't— I won't do this to you, Charlie. Everyone who gets close to me, every single damn one of them either ends up hurt or dead. And if neither of those things happens to them, then I betray them. I'm not a good person, and you deserve better."

He pulled her nearer and his lips pressed low on her cheek, close to her mouth, but not close enough. He lingered for a long, suspended moment, his body warm and solid against her. It was all too much, but nowhere near enough. She reached up and flattened her hands against his chest, before sliding them upward, over his neck, to cup his jaw. He shuddered against her, his body going rigid, muscles tightening up like stone. She turned her face into his, her need for him blazing white-hot through her chest and radiating outward until she felt like she was burning up. Her lips found his, mouths brushing with the lightest contact. She slid a hand to the back of his neck, needing to pull him harder against her. But with a muttered curse, Bass abruptly pulled out of her grasp and walked away.

Charlie sunk down to sit on the bank of the stream, her breathing choppy, while she waited for her heart rate to return to normal. Had that really just happened? Bass had all but told her his true feelings, that he wanted her, but it was a line he apparently wasn't willing to cross. She should be thanking him - hadn't she just been thinking before exactly how many ways a relationship between them could end in disaster for herself and the rest of her family? Instead, her whole body ached with the wish that he'd disregarded his morals and kissed the hell out of her. Huh, had she just put _Sebastian Monroe_ and the word _morals_ in the same sentence?

With a sigh, she finished washing up and put on her clean shirt. No matter how many horrible things Bass had done, no matter that he'd been circumstantially responsible for killing her own brother, and indirectly her father, he'd just proven that deep down, there was still something decent inside of him, someone who knew right from wrong and was willing to put others before his own selfish wants and needs.

She took her time returning to the roadhouse, not sure how she would keep a calm façade when she laid eyes on Bass again. But she had to pretend like nothing had changed. That was what Bass wanted, and it was the right thing to do.

Inside, she heard the tones of a heated conversation, before she pushed through a door leading into the main room where she'd left Miles and her mom.

"What's going on?" She asked, casting a glance between the three tense forms of Miles, her mom, and Bass.

"I was just telling Miles its time he told me where my son is." Bass replied to her, though the comment was obviously meant for Miles.

"And I'm telling you, we need to go find Aaron—"

"Screw that, Miles. I held up my end of the bargain, I helped you save him, it's not my fault the guy disappeared. Hell, for all we know, Horn was one of the extra-crispy-fried bodies we saw back at the school, and Mr. Google went off all on his lonesome because his girlfriend had just bit it and he was feeling a mite upset about it. I don't really care. What I do care about it finding my son, so you either tell me or—"

"Or what, Bass? You're going to have a tantrum and try to destroy half the continent again?"

For a second Bass looked like he was going to lose it, maybe physically attack Miles. Instead, he let out a cynical laugh. "Screw you, Miles. I seem to remember people calling you the Butcher of Baltimore, so don't try any of that sanctimonious bullshit on me."

"That's enough." Rachel said quietly. "Arguing isn't going to solve anything."

Miles shoved a hand through his hair, before sighing. "Fine, Bass. I'll take you to find your son. But first we've got to go back to Willoughby, Rachel wants to find out if Gene is still alive, maybe spring him if we have to."

Bass glared at them, a muscle in his jaw flexing, but then he glanced away from them. "Fine, we'll go via Willoughby and see if Gramps is still kicking. But then that's it, Miles, you're taking me to wherever you stashed my kid."

Bass turned away from them, walking over to a table to grab his pack. "Now if it's all right with you, let's get this show on the road. The sooner we get back to Willoughby and deal with this latest Matheson family drama, the sooner I get to see my son."

He shouldered his bag and walked out of the roadhouse, not even sparing Charlie a glance, despite the fact that he went right past her.

"And killing people usually puts him in a good mood," Miles muttered as he grabbed his bag.

Charlie slowly walked over and gathered her own belongings, before following the others outside.

Although nothing had technically happened between her and Bass, she got the feeling that it didn't matter. Something had definitely changed, and whether or not that was good or bad, she couldn't say. The only fact she knew for sure was that things had just gotten a whole lot more complicated.

THE END

* * *

_A/N - So, that's it for The Sum of all Truth. I decided to end it this way so I could bring the story in line with what's happening on the TV show. It might be a little while before I get around to writing some more [ I've been doing this fanfic on my holidays, but now its time to get back to work :( ] and depending on what's happening on the show will probably influence me as to where I take my own story next._

_I know most of you were probably hoping for a lot more than a psudeo-kiss, but as I've said before, I'm trying to keep this as real to the show as I can, and I think it will take a lot of time and emotional/psychological changes for both Bass and Charlie to get to a point where they're willing to disregard everything to be together. I don't want them to have a cheap fling - that would be too easy - I want them to fall in love to a point where resisting is no longer possible!_

_Anyway, thanks so much for all the awesome reviews, follows and favorites, it made this so much fun, and getting to interact with like minded people who are holding out for some Charloe action has been great!_

_Until I post the first chapter of my next fic, happy reading everyone!_

_~x LizAna_


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